Cloaked in Blood (27 page)

I snorted.  “Ambition again.  Is
the lack of hard work a trait he shared with Lyle Henderson?”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Danny said. 
“I think what occurred to your father and me is that Rodney
Martin’s murder might’ve had nothing to do with Jerry Lowe’s
attempts to evade capture, and everything to do with silencing
another person who knew too much about the human trafficking
conspirators.”

I frowned.  “He did invite me to
Darkwater Bay for a visit after graduation.”

“Yours or his?” Dad asked.

“His.  I had at least two years left of
clinical and research and coursework before I completed my
doctorate.”

“And what happened when you came to
town?”

“We had dinner once, and then he basically
ignored me for the duration of my visit.  I spent most of my
time holed up in a hotel room working on…”

“Yes?” Dad prompted.  “Working on
what?”

“A monograph,” I said.  “It was the
first I ever compiled alone, on a case that never was closed, but
it got the attention of my advisor to the point that when CBI came
knocking for a psychological profile, my professor recommended that
they turn the case files over to me.”

“Did Rodney know what you were working
on?”

“We spoke nearly every day, mostly excuses
from him why he had to postpone dinner and my grand tour of the
city.  He was meeting with important people who could help
launch his career.”

Dad started shaking his head half way
through my last statement.  “No, Helen.  No.  That’s
not how it works.  When you apply to a local jurisdiction, you
go through the police academy just like every other
applicant.  There is no palm greasing required.”

“There would be if Rodney wanted to assure a
rapid climb up the ladder,” Danny said.  “He was what,
thirty-four, thirty-five when he died?”

I nodded.  “Thirty-five.”

“He, like Jerry Lowe, was one of the
youngest officers to ever successfully pass the captain’s exam and
be promoted.  Jerry Lowe knows why that happened.  As I
recall, he doubted the need for another captain of robbery homicide
at Central Division, since he was there and could provide direct
oversight to the squad.”

“Then what are you saying, Danny?” Dad
asked.

“I think I’m right.  Rodney Martin was
the first potential information leak that was plugged.  And
why did that happen?  Think about it Helen.  Think about
what Lowe told you this morning about Rodney.”

“He inquired about Kelly and Varden?”

Datello smiled coldly.  “And lo and
behold, who turned up in Washington looking for you shortly
thereafter?”

“Rodney knew who hired Kelly and Varden,” I
breathed.  “The FBI showed up, following me, stumbled on them
following me.  Jesus Christ!”  I leapt toward the phone
on the wall.

“What’re you doing, Helen?”

“I need to talk to David Levine, Dad.”

“We’re dragging him back into this?”

“You don’t understand,” I said.  “David
saw the man who hired Kelly and Varden.  All this time, I
assumed he saw them meeting with Lowe.  The description
matched the man we were looking for, the one who raped Carrie
Blevins.  When it turned out to be Lowe, I assumed that was
who David saw meeting with them.  I need him to see a picture
of Jerry Lowe and tell me if that was the person he saw before they
discouraged my two new shadows from following me anymore.”

Chapter 26

He answered the phone quickly. 
“Johnny?”

“Hate to disappoint you.  It’s just
me.”

Another chair, this one a little less
familiar than the one I knew so well, creaked in the
background.  “Helen,” a little warily.

“David, I’m sorry I’ve been so mental
lately.  Can you really blame me for the stress of all of this
wearing me down?”

“I don’t blame you.  That didn’t make
your accusations more palatable.  I’ve done nothing but
support you and try to make sure that the truth of what happened to
Rick Hamilton isn’t obscured by some bastard looking to cut a
better deal.”

Bile bubbled in my belly.  I noticed
that he was careful not to say
the truth of Rick’s
suicide
.  “I know.  I’m sorry.”

“Johnny warned me that you’d probably call
in the throes of remorse eventually.”

“Did he now,” I filed that tidbit for a
later skirmish.  “Well, in this instance, he’s right, and I am
sorry about my unfounded paranoia.”

“Apology accepted, though I know you too
well to believe that’s the only reason you called me.”

“You make me sound like a monster,
David.  Why can’t that be the only reason I called?”

“Because you never apologize unless you have
no other choice.  Now what information do I have that you
think is the fastest path to whatever you want now?”

Speaking of filing grievances for later
airing, I did it again.  My fingers bit into the plastic
phone.  “It’s this thing with Jerry Lowe.  I had a
nightmare last night.”  Only a partial lie.  I tried to
squelch the protests of my conscience by reminding myself of that
fact, and the one that was foremost in my brain.  David
was
lying to me, had been for a very long time.

“Honey,” he said , that voice that always
soothed me because of the compassion it conveyed didn’t quite do it
for me this morning.  “Jerry Lowe can’t hurt you again.”

“I know that, David.  But if he’s found
incompetent to stand trial, he could conceivably be unleashed on
Darkwater Bay again.  I’m not really in the mood to uproot my
life to hide from another psychopath who blames me for his
downfall.”  Total lie.  I’d so be out of here by sundown
if I thought it would make a difference.

“What can I do to help?”

“I was thinking about all the crimes Jerry
wasn’t charged with this morning.  Remember those two private
investigators you discouraged from following me?”

“Sure,” he said.  The relaxation in his
tone was unmistakable.  David bought the rationale for my call
completely.  “What about them?”

“They refused to tell the police who hired
them to follow me, even though Briscoe said they were caught red
handed with property they stole from my hotel room.  Guys like
that didn’t leave a paper trail that the police could follow, so
–”

“Since Seleeby and I saw them with the
mystery man who turned out to be Jerry Lowe, you thought it might
help tack some more charges onto his indictment.”

“Is that a bad idea?”

“No, my dear, it’s not.  I assume that
Lowe is now listed in ViCAP as the perpetrator in a number of now
closed cases.”

“He is.”

“Jerry?  Gerald?”

“Jerome, Lowe with an E,” I listened to his
fingers clack over a keyboard, then a grunt of consternation
floated into my ear.  “I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

“That’s not the man I saw meet with those
sleazy investigators, Helen.  I’m sorry.”

“There’s no resemblance whatsoever?”

“They’re both tall with dark hair, and not
particularly muscle bound.  Beyond that, the similarities
aren’t even close.  This man was much older than Jerry
Lowe.”

“But he had dark hair.”

“Some men do color, my dear.  Not that
I was close enough to tell.  But no, this guy had more
weathering in his face.  Of course, Kelly and Varden probably
had a great many clients and not just Jerry Lowe.”

“Are you sure you got a good enough look at
him, David?  Could you be mistaken?”

“Seleeby was driving.  I got a very
good look at the man, and I’m telling you, he wasn’t Jerry
Lowe.”

“You told me he was some nobody.”

“Yes, but that was in the context of one of
the people known as an associate of Danny Datello,” David
said.  “Those men have a certain aura, Helen.  They don’t
meet at venues like the one we followed your PI’s to.”

“Where did they meet?”

“Outside your amphitheater, Helen.  The
marquee said there was some sort of opera playing.  It wasn’t
exactly a location frequented by thugs in the lower ranks of
organized crime figures.”

“All right.  Well, I suppose that’s
another dead end then.  Let’s just hope that the judge sees
the deception in Lowe’s insanity plea before the next competency
hearing.”

David hesitated for half a beat. 
“Helen, are you sure we’re solid?”

I forced the pause out of my reply. 
“As a rock.  Please don’t let my mood swings make you doubt
it, David.  This pregnancy will end, and the friend you know
will return.”

“Have you told Johnny you’re having
nightmares again?”

“No…”

“Helen, is that wise?  It’s these
little miscommunications that tend to explode like hydrogen bombs
between the two of you.  He should be the first person you
call when something worries you now.  You don’t need to
protect him from your fears, you know.”

Rebuke was the last thing I needed. 
“He’s got enough on his plate right now without my irrational
fears.”

“Maybe they’re irrational, maybe they’re
not.  I seem to recall the last nightmare you secreted away
from all of us.  It’s what led us to dig deeper into
Sanderfield’s associations.  Don’t hid what your subconscious
is trying to tell you from Johnny.  It might be more important
than you realize.”

“I’ll talk to him,” I lied.  And then
another.  “My call waiting… it could be him.”

“We’ll talk soon.”

I hung up the phone.  Danny and Dad
were pacing in tandem.

“It wasn’t Lowe after all,” Dad said.

“Apparently not.”

“
If
you trust David, Danny,” I
said.  “And I’m not sure I do.”

“So who hired the thugs intent on taking you
out of the picture before you really entered it?” Dad posed the
most important question of all.

Datello snapped his fingers.  “How do
you know it wasn’t their intent to simply abduct you and sell you
then, Helen?”

“I don’t know it,” I said.  It opened
up an entirely different avenue of consideration.  What if
someone wanted to prevent me from ever uncovering anything?
 And if that was the case, I wondered exactly who else Rodney
Martin told about my potential arrival in Darkwater Bay.

Johnny slammed the door to his office. 
Crevan startled and dropped the file he held in his hand.

“Well?”

“You tell me,” Crevan said.  “Or is
your mood sufficient explanation?”

“Bowland saw nothing awry at Dunhaven this
morning.  The night staff was already gone when I
arrived.  Nothing unusual was revealed in shift report
regarding Jerry Lowe.”

“Did they let you talk to him?”

Johnny gritted his teeth.  “No, but I
saw the smug bastard.  He waved at me and then pretended to
lock his lips and toss the key over his shoulder.”

“A message itself,” Crevan said.

“What did you learn from Briscoe?”

“Helen has a source,” Crevan replied. 
“Tony has no idea who it could be, and swears he hasn’t heard from
her in a couple of weeks.”

“So what happened?”

“Some orderly from Lyle Henderson’s assisted
living was the victim of a hit and run accident last night. 
Dead at the scene.  Briscoe said CSD found a shitload of money
on his person, that it made Forsythe paranoid enough to call Maya
out to pick up the body for the county.”

“Is that it?”

“Only clue was the emblem imprinted on the
guy’s belly.  Briscoe said rumor has it that it came from a
Cadillac.”

“Maya could be her source then,” Johnny
mused, “but I doubt it.  Given Helen’s backpedaling, I’d lay
odds on Maya being surprised that Helen knew anything about
it.  I’ve seen the woman read a news paper exactly twice in
all the time we’ve known her, and I doubt a hit and run made the
front page of the morning edition.”

“You, my friend, need to have a conversation
with your wife.”

“I told her I was done with the games,
Crevan.  I thought, for about thirty seconds, that she was
finally starting to really trust me.  Then along comes Wendell
again and poof.  We’re back to square one.  Hell, worse
than square one.  Square zero.”

“Do you think this hit and run is related to
Henderson?”

“Safe bet if Helen knows the name of the
victim before anybody mentioned it to her in casual
conversation.  Shit,” he brushed one hand through his hair in
abject defeat.  “It’s pretty bad when I think I should be
surveilling my wife instead of the people trying to harm her. 
I’m not sure who’s more dangerous, Helen or these slave
traders.”

Crevan scowled.  “Let’s not forget
you’re talking about my sister.”

“Nor should we forget that she would lie to
you as easily as she draws breath, Crevan.  I hate to say it,
but your sister is the most dishonest creature I’ve ever met in my
life.”

“Not with you, she isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he chuffed out a bitter sound. 
“But only if she’s backed hard enough and deep enough into a very
uncomfortable corner.  Only then is honesty an option, and
that’s out of necessity and nothing more.  This isn’t how it’s
supposed to be, Crevan.”

“You think you made a mistake, don’t
you?”

“More than one,” Orion said.  “I love
her.  I can’t help that.  But I’m really starting to
resent her at the same time.  Why can’t she trust me? 
What did I ever do that made her look at me and think,
this is
the guy I should always lie to.  He’s the one I shouldn’t
trust.  Murderers?  We’re good.  Organized crime
bosses?  You bet.  But not my husband.  Can’t trust
him
.”

Crevan fidgeted with his hands for a moment
before folding them placidly on the conference table in Johnny’s
office.  “As someone who’s spent the better portion of his
life living a lie, maybe I have some unique insight into why Helen
can’t seem to tell anyone the truth.”